


Communism and Common Sense

by Battle_Of_Roses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1950s America, Alternate Universe, Castiel is a mix of himself and Endverse! Castiel, Destiel Angst, Destiel Fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, More tags to come!, Multi, Not endorsing anything just discussion, Not too heavy stuff, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical attiudes, Russian Castiel, Set during Red Scare, Slow Burn, also of Marxist political theory, discussion of philosophy, no infidelity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25261321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Battle_Of_Roses/pseuds/Battle_Of_Roses
Summary: Everyone knows Mr Dean Smith. Smart, sharp and honourable, a picture of the American Dream in the 50s, he is respected by all. Well, almost all. Enter Mr Smith’s neighbour, “Cas-tee-el”, and there’s no neighbourly love lost between them. But, the childish dislike grows into something more dangerous, coming to threaten the lives of both who partake in it. But, the anger may blossom into something else.After all, in the orderly suburb of Millwood, it is rather treacherous to be out of the ordinary.
Relationships: Balthazar / Castiel (for a short while), Benny Lafitte/ Dean Winchester (minor), Castiel/Dean Smith (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester (formerly), Jo Harvelle/Sam Winchester, Lisa Braeden / Dean Winchester (for the first part)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 18





	1. Call Me By Your Name

**Author's Note:**

> Before you start, I want to clarify that I am not a Communist per se and I do not support the atrocities committed under the different Communist regimes. Here, I discuss the ideology of Communism as in the Marxist Political Theory than the implementation examples that we have seen in different countries. I simply got this idea from an Instagram shitpost and me being bored in my sociology class. 
> 
> This fic is the perfect culmination of everything that I've ever wanted to read in Destiel, I mean slow burn, historical fic, enemies to lovers, woo! Also, I'm not a native English speaker so all the mistakes are mine.
> 
> Just ready to get strapped from the craziest ride, with a lot of bad rom-com puns (romance-communist, hahah), a lot of weird stuff in the 50s and oh boy, is it gonna get angsty. 
> 
> Also, I’m gonna post links to all the cool historical stuff that I came across while researching! Hope you enjoy it!

Dean Smith knows that he is respected in the neighbourhood. He stands tall with pride, after all, he’s one of the golden men that America’s proud off. He’s got the American Dream - a wife named Lisa, a kid from Lisa’s previous wedding - Ben, a house in the new suburbs and a fine, no-bad honourable job in the automobile company, and well he knows it.

He rarely differs from his routine of waking up at 5 in the morning, groaning miserably from his alarm clock. As the light slowly seeps into his eyes, he turns to look at his wife. He kisses her on her temple and as usual, she tries to tug him back into the bed. But, he knows that it more for the sake of their small routine that they do than actually honest. Their life is in a perpetual loop, down to their very last intimate moments. Familiar is safe and that’s what Dean likes to stick to. Life is an instruction manual for them, and they refuse to throw it away, no matter the tears in it.

Lisa peeks from under the covers, the sunlight from the bare cracks from the curtain making her squint. She’s beautiful, squinty-eyed and messy-haired. Dean is irrevocably in love again. But, instead of verbalizing it, because no chick-flick moments even with his own wife, he squeezes her hand hoping it conveys all that he feels. She mumbles something and sinks back trying to get a little more of the sleep before getting into their practice.

Dean is an efficient man, as he is known by his employers, he efficiently uses time, something that is appreciated in his work, but, it is also something that transfers in his home life. He brushes his teeth as he reads the newspaper, he shares his love with quick actions instead of emotional talk, he learns every inch of anything that he’s supposed to do so that he does it as he’s supposed to. He shaves while listening to the radio, does the rest of his bathroom ritual, then grabs his suit of the day hanging on the bathroom door and gets changed.

And there is the immaculate man who is respected by all. Today he’s wearing a standard white button-up and charcoal black slacks. He knots a soft green tie that matches the brilliant jade hue of his eyes. His hair is perfectly combed and there’s not even a strand out of place. Freckles dot his face like a star map and a slight red hue graces his skin courtesy of the hot water.

He whistles a cheery tune as he makes his way to the kitchen, only stopping to look over Ben sleeping peacefully in his room. The room’s door was left ajar probably in the boy’s hurry to get to bed last night. He doesn’t disturb the boy, just observes him quietly. Despite the boy not being his, Dean’s always loved him as his own boy. Ben brought out a caring side of him that he never realized he had. Lisa’s always told him about how Dean’s whipped for Ben and he allows himself to chuckle softly standing in the room. He notes to come back early today, maybe he’ll take Ben on a car ride or play a round of softball with him. Heaven knows, that his new promotion had eaten up a lot of his time.

He gently closes Ben’s bedroom door and pads towards the kitchen. It’s a very pastel coloured part of the house, a domain ruled entirely by Lisa except for when Dean liked to takeover to do some cooking. He’s not really fond of the baby pink and rose colours, but he lets it be as Lisa likes it and it reminds him of his mother. Blue? Maybe alike cerulean blue would look good, he’d seen that name in one of Ben’s pastels.

But, rather than comforting him, it just made him guilty. Heck, how long had it been that he’s even been to a family dinner? He should probably call his folks soon and let them know that he’d be over for Saturday night dinner. He would probably be ribbed and scolded for being inattentive.

He started to brew his coffee and wished that it would brew faster, because without coffee bad thoughts, or more like a thing that he didn’t want to think about would intrude and make him confront the truth he didn’t want to deal with.

Well, the truth was that everything was so settled, everything that he did seemed like a part of the routine.

Heck, he was barely 37 with a family and a job, he had a perfect life that everyone dreamed off. Somedays he dreamed to packing everything and leaving, discovering a world that was far different from what he had always known, but, Lisa had told him that it wasn’t the life that she wanted for herself or for Ben. She had been living a tumultuous life until then and settling down felt like stability and starting something new. And Dean simply shut up about that and never made a mention about that ever again except that it was a constant itch that he chose to ignore, settling down was good and good meant safe.

_Right?_

_Beep, beep._

Hallelujah, his coffee was done. Sniffing in the heady scent of the coffee, Dean immediately relaxed.

Hah, the idea was ludicrous. Packing up and leaving everything that he had? Now, that was stupid.

_Well, you never know if you never try?_

Instead of addressing it, Dean chose to sip his hot coffee while warming his palms on the growing warmth of his cup. And then he finally looked out of the window on the opposite wall, something he’d been trying not to do but, after all, he was human.

Dean Smith had primarily two points of contention in his life, one was his increasingly frightening urge to leave everything and then the second one lived next to him.

Truth to be told, he knew nothing much about the man himself, he’d only probably talked to the man once after which Dean had decided that he hated the man. _Cas-tee-el_ or whatever the fuck his name was, had said something that had made Dean made the first time that he’d been around to drop off some apple pie to fulfil his neighbourly duties and welcome the man into the neighbourhood. Words had been exchanged and Cassanova _(maybe Cassie?)_ had made a comment or two about the working classes that Dean did not appreciate considering he was from those aforementioned classes. Dean, in turn, had called him some stuff that in retrospect made him wince _(the stupid guy deserved it every per cent)_ and it had ended up in blows and cuts on both of them.

Turns out later, that Cass _(his name is too long, Dean was gonna call him Cas)_ had misunderstood Dean’s intentions and he had sent over an apology pie but, Dean stuck with his convictions that the man just was trying to act all noble to make a point about the “working classes”. Dean had ended up chucking and breaking the beautiful pie over the man’s door. Cass _(Wait, did it sound too much like a nickname?)_ had just opened the door and looked down on the decimated remains of his pie. He had titled his head towards Dean as if he could understand the fact that Dean absolutely despised him and that bribing him wouldn’t work at all.

That’s when he had seen that Cas _(One “s” was better than two, he didn’t deserve two)_ had startlingly blue eyes, cerulean blue.

And ever since then, Dean had a mile-wide rivalry with him. And everyone knew about it, Sam Wesson, Dean’s new brother-in-law and best friend since childhood had just suggested that maybe he should just move out somewhere else if the guy bothered him that much. But that felt too much like quitting and quitting meant losing, besides he wouldn’t give the asshat the satisfaction.

At first, it had felt like a one-sided game where Dean constantly hounded him and send multiple complaints to the neighbourhood watch committee, stuff for which he would usually turn a blind eye to. And it wore him out when Cas just looked at him as if he couldn’t understand what he’d done to make Dean angry. All of that had made him want to give up until well, Cas retaliated.

Cas _(the bastard)_ had just knowingly kept quiet and one day, the fucker knowing slammed his car into the Impala which was parked out on the road instead of being in the garage. Dean had gone inside to get something that he’d forgotten and when he came out he saw his lovely car, Baby, had been crushed from the hard impact.

Cas, well, Cas looked like he was in a bad shape, his forehead was bleeding and he swore that his hand had slipped and the car crashed accidentally. Dean couldn’t press charges because he wasn’t supposed to leave his car on the main road because it was a hazard. In the end, Dean had to pay for the damages and had to send the car for repair while he used a second-hand Ford in the meantime. The cherry on the top was the smirk that Cas had sent him when Lisa turned away to get some bandages for his head. Of course, accidents never happened accidentally.

Ever since then, they had a fair share of reporting the other to a higher authority and damaging properties, and this had been going on for about two years almost.

But, coming back to the scene at his window and back to his kitchen, Dean had another reason to wake up early to stare at his neighbour’s window, and that was to catch him at doing wrong so Dean could report him to the committee about something or the other. The window was angled at a way that it was only visible from Dean’s kitchen, it afforded some privacy he guessed.

Lisa not so kindly had called him obsessed, well, memorizing the time that your neighbour woke up and opening his window, waking up early and staring at his window, didn’t mean he was obsessed.

They’d had too many fights about it where Lisa couldn’t understand while Dean couldn’t understand why everyone thought that Cas was a saint. Needless, it was a hot button issue that they both had decided to ignore.

Or that is until, their inevitable next fight.

And finally, Dean’s patience rewards him when the Cas’s curtains twitch and open fully. And there is the man himself, his figure’s a little blurry but, Dean can identify the messy and mussed hair on his head from a distance. It’s just like usual except... Cas is _shirtless._

Dean’s breath involuntarily hitches and his hand trembles. It's not the angry kind of tremble but rather a nervous one. The man’s wearing low slung pyjamas and that’s all the details that he can gather. Cas is stretching his arms and yawning and Dean’s just stuck to a spot unable to move.

It feels as of everything that he’s ever tried to repressed is coming out to him this morning.

His eyes are stuck to the sight of Cas shirtless when another arm sneaks around his hips and Cas turns. Dean looks on as Cas faces another man in a similar shirtless condition. He can’t clearly see the man’s reaction but, Cas pushes him away soon. But, even then he leans towards the man and-

_Crash._

Dean looks down dumbly and his coffee cup lies there shattered into pieces, some of the coffee getting soaked up in the carpeted floor of his living room. It’s not only his hands that are shaking but, his whole body.

His hands snap up to see both men standing a little far from each other and talking about something. Something in Dean finally snaps and he rushes out the front door leaving a trail of debris and a far call of _“Dean!”_.

He is too far gone to realize that Lisa was calling him back.


	2. Love, Your Favourite Communist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean goes to confront Castiel about his ...ehm, indiscretions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for internalised homophobia, period typical homophobia, homophobic behaviour and minor Dean/Benny.

He’s there before he can realise it. 

It’s funny how time passes in such a blur when crucial moments happen. 

Maybe if Dean would have gotten some time to think during his storming up to his neighbours, maybe he would have stopped and turned his tail and just reported Cas. Maybe somewhere out there in an alternate universe, if those existed, Dean would have watched as the police had arrested Castiel and his friend for indecency, and then, he would have congratulated him on a job well done, a bullet dodged, and then, maybe he would have learnt to live in a confined life of family and white picket fence. Maybe in that universe, he ends up convincing Lisa to move away from a little far, and then after a few years a little more, maybe Ben gets another new sibling and maybe, just maybe Dean can force himself to be happy. 

But, it's too late when he comes to think about all of this. Contemplation was never Dean’s style, action and hasty decisions were somethings that he was better known for. 

Maybe, he gives himself the solace to think later, in another universe he would have been rational but, being rational would have never brought him happiness. 

Afterall the road to happiness is paved with sins and sadness. 

His fist collides with the wooden heavy door of his neighbours. 

_Thwack!_

Even he winces at the sound. He’s not hurt so much but the knock sounds more like a threatening smack than anything else. 

And he waits.

The silence is not comfortable, despite there being no one to share it with him. He hears hasty footsteps coming downstairs, he can return back if he wants to but something inside of him is pushing out. 

_“Boy, I better not catch you doing this again.”_

Dean involuntarily flinches as his mind thinks that it is okay to dredge up his worst memory ever right now when he decides to confront his own neighbour about sins that he has committed. Somewhere in the corner of his mind, his own teenage voice whispers, “Dean, you’re turning into Mister Winchester.” Even in his mind, the voice shakes and Dean realises that he’s afraid. 

_Of what?_

_Of Mister Winchester?_

_Of Castiel?_

_Of himself?_

And as his mind has started, it does not stop. It starts pulling him back to a time he doesn’t want to be in. His breath puffs and starts becoming shorter and shorter, his heart’s beating so fast that it feels like each beat is a full-body shudder. 

Mister Winchester is in his mind again. 

It’s a very old memory, blurry around the edges and hazy. Dean Smith is not the polished middle-aged man who lives near a neighbour whom he hates. Instead, he’s a teenager, young and cheeky, still living in his parents' house with his sister Jo. His best friend is Sam Wesson but he's more of a brother. He’s been having an off-on relationship with Lisa Braeden a few streets over but, right now it’s off time. 

Dean’s always also had an eye out for boys. It’s nothing big and he definitely hasn’t talked to anyone about it, it’s a secret that he possesses within himself. Mostly he doesn’t even act on it, but, between the winks that Benny has passing him and the shorthand squeezes that he can fit in between the breaks, they’re both a little pent up. 

Auto shop, 1 pm in the afternoon, when Dean’s slaving over some classic beaut of a car under Mister John Hard-Ass Winchester when Benny purposely fully stumbles and slams onto Dean kneeling in front of one of the car tires. Despite the tumbling fall that Benny has the smirk that he sends over to Dean, gives him the idea that something’s up. 

A warm hand darts and covers Dean’s grease-stained one and slips him a paper. 

Both of their eyes meet and the sly wink that Benny sends over makes Dean turn red like the cherry car he’s repairing. 

_“Oi boy, can you see where you’re goin’?”_

And then, Mister Winchester is back. And Dean hates him with every fibre of his being. No one knows where he came from, but, just the fact that one day he’d turned up at the local ramshackle of a hospital with an almost dead woman cradled in his arms, he’d refused to say who she was or who he was. Despite all the attempts to save her when she passed away, he had just stayed back apparently toiling to pay off the medical bills that had amassed in the critical hours where the doctors had tried to save her. 

Dean would be sympathetic if it weren’t for the fact that the man was horrible. He carried a stink of alcohol like a forbearing smell of death. His desk held a battered and broken Bible but it seemed to be of no use when he seemed convinced to let himself drink to his death. But, he also had a very sharp sense, if anything were to be out of the ordinary or not in its place, he would start yelling and harassing everyone, the paranoid fuck. 

Maybe he had been a hunter or something. 

Benny stumbles away but, not before he can give a tiny discreet squeeze on Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s blushing hasn’t stopped yet and he waits a little while after which Mister Winchester goes back to his desk and starts his miserable drinking again. 

The note is simple. It reads - _Tonight, 10 pm at the A.S._

Dean drops the note when he sees the last initial. The auto shop? He knew that Benny hated Winchester but, fooling inside the auto shop at night? Damn, that was dangerous. 

But, Dean Smith was known for being dangerous and reckless. They just needed to be a little careful. 

And, that’s where everything went wrong. From dropping the note into the grimy ground, not noticing Gordon Walker, his worst enemy in the back watching him with gleaming eyes, not noticing the tiny squeaks and bumps in the auto shop which sounded like people walking in the dark trying not to be caught. 

Dean has long blacked out the memories of that night. But, whatever he had learned as Mister Winchester had put it had put scars in his mind forever. 

And all these years, he had buried the crap inside so deep, the lashing, and the pain. 

_Dean Winchester was not a homosexual right?_

_Right?_

_And yet..._

“Yes?”

The door is open and Dean hadn’t even noticed it. He was shaking so badly at this point that he collapsed onto the floor. Everything started to swirl into one giant mess. His heartbeats were beginning to be so loud, that they were undertaking his every other sense. 

“What the hell man, what are you doing?”

The sound pierces through everything. It brings dissonance to everything that he feels. Through his blurry vision he can see that it’s not Cas, but, it’s the other fellow that was touching him. 

When Dean sees blurry dirty blond on the figure's head and the British accent registers in his mind, he grins. 

_‘Ello_ , he thinks.

Hands grasp him and start to shake him and instead of bringing clarity to him, he seeks to confuse and confound him even more. The shaking sinks him deeper into the chest of bad memories. A shudder runs through him and Mister Winchester speaks through him one last time. 

_I will punch and burn the sin out of your heart boy!_

And like Mister Winchester that night, his fist flies out between the shaking and from the crunching noise that he hears, he breaks something on another man’s face. 

He can hear someone screaming an unearthly wail and he realises that it’s him. He wants to stop screaming but he feels that he can't stop like it out of his control now. The screech is reaching levels that it’s making him lose his own hearing. 

His heart seems to be beating out of his own chest. 

And from there came blue. Dean winces from the pain and presses his eyes shut. As a breath tears away from his collapsing lung, he sees blue again.

“Mr Smith, Mr Smith? Dean!”

It's a gravelly American voice but, with a curl of something foreign in the end. Cas is speaking, and Dean remembers belatedly that it’s the second time that they both are speaking to each other. A rough hand places itself over his shoulder tentatively and it’s suddenly an anchor that centres him. 

“Dean? Dean, just stay with me.”

No matter how much he tries to hold on to the swirling blue of the skies and the eyes, he feels his body give out as duelling voices call out “Dean!”. 

\---

When he wakes up, it’s not on the cold, hard stone floor of Cas’s porch but, on the soft sheets of his own bedroom. There’s pain all over his body and when the blurry clock on the other wall. 

It’s already 12 noon. _S_

_Shit, he missed work today._

“Do you want to go and have another round with your neighbour since you’re up?”

Dean winced partly from the pain and partly from Lisa’s cold tone. 

“Lis-,” he stopped. 

What was he going to tell her? He just bit his lip. Somehow telling her about the fact that he saw their mollycoddling with another man and had gone to confront them because he was somewhat of a homosexual himself and he had just raged at their house following his trauma a couple of years ago?

_Wait, what- he wasn’t a homosexual! That was ridiculous. No, he couldn’t tell anyone, it would only make him appear suspicious._

“What!?! You’re obsessed with the man, Dean! I wake up this morning and I see you punching his guest and fainting on his doorstep? I know you hate him but, what was that this morning? The neighbours are going to be talking about this! Gosh, Becky is not going to leave it!”

She suddenly turns to him from where she’s standing at the doorway to the bedroom. The light is coming from behind making a halo out of her outline. He can’t see her but her rage is hitting him like aggressive punches. 

“But, do pray and tell me, Dean, what the fuck were you doing there in the morning?”

Words have seemed to escape him. The silence stretches between them to a tangible breaking point, and Dean, after all, is only a human. He just turns his head away towards the windows facing Cas’s house. 

There are curtains blocking his view. 

Lisa sighs in a way that makes it seem that she wants to continue on, “Just-the next time when you pull a stunt like that- just, think of Ben, before you do anything stupid.”

If the feeling of being punched wasn’t enough, the thought of Ben was worse. Lisa could have backhanded him and he would have felt less pain. 

Ben. 

_Yes, he has to think of Ben._

“Anyway, Sam’s here.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed it! And well how have y'all been? Hopefully good. Sooo, for the last chapter, it was supposed to be named "Call Me By Our Name" (because "our" not "your" because communism, hahaha). But, my sleep-addled mind typoed it. So, to remedy it, I named this chapter "Love, Your Favourite Communist" (Because "Love, Simon" )
> 
> Also, I don't think that bisexuality was as known of a concept as homosexuality so, you'll have a lot of Dean trying to figure out if he's gay or straight but, he later comes to the realisation that he's bi. Not sure if that's a spoiler cause Destiel is endgame. I hope to make it a lovely journey of discovery, so we shall see about that!
> 
> I just found out about The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster and I got a very good Destiel idea with Cas being an ordained mister in the Church (a Pastronomi) and Dean somehow stumbling in with the beliefs. All jokes aside they believe in the ideals of separating state and religion and the belief is more in that rather than the FSM but, all things said I might write a one-shot if y'all may be interested! I'll just need to gather some motivation but, it'll be fun!
> 
> Have a good week! And see y'all next week with another slice of communism and slow burn. If you have some free time to spare, do drop a comment! It'll warm this author's heart :) <3


	3. Pretty Anti Capitalist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadness, Solitude in the mind and Sam Wesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a delayed chapter but, my life suddenly turned extremely busy that I had not time to post a chapter.   
> The title is a mix of Pretty Woman and Anti-Capitalist which makes it Pretty Anti-Capitalist. (Yes, I have weird humour).
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy the chapter though! :)

There was something hilarious about the fact that Sam Wesson, one Gigantor of a moose sipping his coffee (at least whatever he had sipping before breaking his cup -  _ damn his neighbour _ ) from a particularly teeny cup. But, in the same vein, Dean was sure that it said something about his cracked head than whatever stupid joke his Humpty-Dumpty head was pulling out. 

The tension was palpable within the room. Though faint, Dean swore he could hear Lisa bustle around the kitchen, although there were no boisterous sounds, so he could only hope that Ben had left before he could see all the humiliation. Well, that put out a little bit of tension from his shoulders, and he relaxed a little bit onto the lumpy cushions. 

“Dean,” and  _ goddamn, _ does he know that tone of voice, and  _ no _ -just because he cracked his head doesn’t mean that he wants to talk about his emotions or have Sammy, of all people, psychoanalysis his issues with his neighbour. 

_ He doesn’t really want to think about Cas right now, because he doesn’t want a paradox of emotions to hit him like whiplash _ .

Dean scrabbles for anything, anything that would make the other man shut up. He knows that his friend means well - but, this image or even this cover that he’s made out of himself is so just hard to take off suddenly. 

_ Heh _ , Sammy might even be right - maybe he should get himself to the shrink and talk about stuff. It’s just times like these when everything is just hard - and perhaps, that’s why he wants to run away from everything. Just drop everything he’s ever known down the drain into the hopeless dreams of romanticism. But, just not now, he needs to focus.

“Sammy, no.” 

And just like the bitchface is slapped on, and Dean, in a typical stroke of  _ Dean-Smith-ness _ , is back on track of shoving everything inside himself. This is familiar territory, even though the conversation could take many more roots - Dean’s navigated all of them before. A perverse joke or a wink or a curse or an anecdote about their childhood growing or about how Dean should have cut off Sammy's hair whenever he had the chance because he probably has longer hair than Jo. 

But, what he is not used to is Sam ignoring the obvious  _ “we do not talk about this ever” _ hints. 

“So Mr Novak?”

“Who?” Dean bursts out before he can help himself. 

_ He means Cas, you idiot, _ his brain supplies chastising. 

As if it weren't possible, Sam’s face gets upgraded in its bitchface level. And oh, he doesn’t hold back on the sarcasm when he emphasises the words, pressing on every syllable as he says “Oh, who Mr Novak? Let’s see, the man that you’ve hated for most of the time that he’s been in the neighbourhood, you went had a panic attack at his doorstep and smashed a pie on the very same doorstep?”

“And your point being?” 

He knows he’s acting especially ridiculous and he doesn't make any sense. But, there’s no point in conceding defeat now. He just stubbornly keeps quiet while looking over Sam’s shoulder at the ugly deep red of his bedroom walls. 

“You know, he’s not as bad of a man, that you think he is?” 

And for the second time in the conversation, he’s been thrown off his loop. He risks a glance at his friend and he’s hit with a double whammy of puppy eyes by a grown man and the aforementioned man’s lawyer voice. Reluctantly, he forced himself to listen to the man. Jesus, if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that Sam was his long-lost brother of something. 

But, there’s also a vulnerability that tinges his face and voice. Sam’s shaggy head is bowed too low and his forehead’s also touching the ground. It’s almost like he’s embarrassed to say anything. And it’s just like that Dean knows, it’s got to do with Jess. 

“It’s got to do with Jess.” 

And there it is. But, just as the curiosity goes through as quickly as it came, and then Dean gets something more unbidden, the image of Cas and the other man together. 

_ And-nope-nope _ , Dean’s mind shuts it down quickly before it starts anything up. But, the anger and rage that passes through him scares him. It’s fear, pure fear. With a jolt, he realises he doesn’t want to almost know what Sam and Cas do. 

“He helped me a lot after Jess, y’ know? He’s a professor of philosophy at the college. It’s just the way he speaks sometimes y’ know? I’ve asked him about it, and though he swears on the fact that he isn’t exactly religious, there’s something very righteous about him. Hell, I might even say angelic? It’s weird- like…”

And Sam cuts himself off with a nervous chuckle like he doesn’t know if he’s making any lick of sense. While the ugly inside Dean albeit still raging, it took a tone of being more confused than anything else. 

“So, he’s a preacher?”

And this time, Dean’s words work like a charm. And Sam again adopts an affronted look and mumbles something about  _ jerksoversimplifyingg things _ when he’s trying to explain stuff. But, he coughs and continues to “Dean, I know you don’t like him but, he’s not bad of a man that you think he is. Maybe you can… actually, leave it.”

“What?”   
“I was gonna tell you to maybe talk to him but, you’re too…”

“Stubborn?”

“Technically yes, for the lack of a better word.”

“Bitch.”

“Haha, jerk!”

A silence drawing at them for a long time now quietly settled and lulled the conversation into sleep. Sam just leaned back sipping at his cold tea, looking like he was thinking of Jess while  Dean, trying not to think anything about his neighbour, instead he just observes Sam. 

He remembers everything. Of course, he does, he’s known Sam for most of his own life and all of Sam’s own. Hell, he’s seen the kid through his toddler steps, when his voice cracked during puberty, when he met Jess at school for the first time, was the best man at his wedding while Sam returning the favour and he has also held him when Sam and Jess’s dream house went up on fire taking away Jess with it. 

And he was broken. Sam, the ever bright, ever positive man who had been through every little for that Dean had been through in his life, the man who had been his brother more than his friend was just lost. 

And the years after had been one to test the endurance of everyone, there had been Sam hell-bent on a revenge plan to the swindler Ruby who had taken away everything and had him hopped up on drugs to them finding Azazel together, the one who had taken Jess from Sam. 

There had been nothing on him as if he had never existed at all, but patience and the motivation of extracting revenge, kept men well on their track. Every moment that they had been on that road, they both were tethering at the edge of _ “what happens next?” _ . Every moment for which Sam had wanted vengeance, Dean had wished that Jess had just been killed by a freak accident instead of a freak of a man that they were tearing themselves apart from. 

Azazel from what they knew was not a man, he considered himself the harbinger of justice. 

_ Whose justice?  _ Dean had always asked.  _ Not God’s surely _ , but even then he wasn’t sure.

He burned apart families for the sake of demonic and divine prophecy and finally when they had located him down in a facility in Washington getting incarcerated under a borrowed name, they went to see him under borrowed names and fake IDs of their own. 

And in the face of all of it when Sam had taken a look at the man from the other side of the glass, he had just broken down. Cried, yelled, screamed and threatened to kill the man. And Dean had held him through all of that, the pain, the anger, the fear and the sorrow. Revenge doesn’t bring anything back for those who have lost, but it shakes the skeletons out from the closet until what remains is dust and regret. 

Everybody said that when the two boys had come back, they were not jovial friends any more. Instead there was something deeper, familial and dark that guarded their secret. None of them had even talked about what had happened during the trip and when Lisa met Dean at the aisle on their wedding, two months later, she always thought that she had met the skeleton of the man she had loved. 

And since then, they had just held on, hoping that one day the love would return back, that Dean would forget about seeing Jess burn and sleep at night, not having nightmares of Lisa burning. 

Sam had found a home with Jo after years of trying, but, neither of them were perhaps to forget after all of it. Dean wanted to run, when Sam wanted to forget. 

And all of that, led them here. 

And just like that the sound of a door opening reached their ears, someone had come in. 

The muffled voices outside the door made it clear that a conversation was probably on it’s way and that Lisa probably knew the people who had come. 

Dean groaned hoping it wasn’t Mrs Becky Shurley, the woman was fine, it’s just that she had an unhealthy penchant for gossip and an obsession with Sam. It didn’t help that her husband was an unsuccessful author with two moods of either inviting someone to drink or to swindle them out of their money. 

The buzz of the conversation went on for about 5 minutes after which the door outside shut with a softer thud. 

Huh, maybe it wasn’t Mrs Shurley then, she would usually insist on checking up on Dean - for either broken bones or getting more information on Sam and then she would continue by commiserating about the state of Dean’s family where he got into spats with the neighbour, Lisa woke up later than what a traditional housewife would and that Ben wasn’t Dean’s son.

Some of it, he wasn’t even sure how she knew.

But, she assured him that she had her sources.

Lisa came in after a little bit. Looking at Sam, Dean realised that he had been holding his breath too. Maybe his fear about Mrs Shurley coming in wasn’t unfounded. 

And she looked nervous which though expected in those cases of being exposed to a Mrs Shurley in the afternoon,  _ presumably,  _ without her coffee, was a little off putting. 

But, she gave Sam just as smile as normal as she took the teacup from him. Taking out the teacup, she also brought in a tray ofa fresh smelling pie cut in neat slices on plates. 

The pie looked warm with layers of crust and juicy apple pie. Gosh, it looks so appealing and just like that he was drooling. 

“I didn’t know we had some pie left.”

She scoffed. Sam, on the other side, just gave a small smirk knowing his friend’s love for pie. 

“Hey Lis, I know you’re mad but, thank you for the pie.”

“Well, somedays I think you love it more than me.”

“Hey! That’s not true. I love it as much as you.”

She swatted at his head playfully while he let out a mock groan. 

“Well, it’s not me that made it. Mr Novak came over with some pie asking about you, well, sounded concerned. I’m thinking of making something to send over to thank him for helping you this morning. Maybe you could take it over and settle your childish feud if you’re well.”

And just like that, Dean’s stomach dropped. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as always thank you for reading! Any comments will be appreciated by me! I might take some time replying to them but, rest be assured, I am always reading them and they power me through my writer's block and doubt! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I hoped y'all enjoyed it! I'm gonna try to update every week so do keep an eye out! Hopefully all y'all are doing good and are safe wherever you are, this time going on is rather wack but, we'll get through!
> 
> If you've got some time, do comment and tell me what you thought about the chapter!
> 
> Have a good time, Cheerio!


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